by K. M. Shea
“No thanks,” I said, “I don’t need it.”
The faun—who was wearing a crisp white shirt, a black vest, and a dark, purplish-blue-ish bowtie bowed. “Then we will prepare your morning tea.”
“Thank you, but no. I don’t want that, either,” I said.
When the faun’s doe-brown eyes almost popped out of his head, I added compulsively, “But I appreciate the thought.”
“But, but you’ll need your morning tea. The candidates for your steward, companion, and director of security are being gathered,” the faun said.
“Great! I’ll come meet them.”
“After breakfast?” the faun asked.
“No. I don’t want anything to eat or drink,” I said firmly. “Why don’t you lead me to wherever these interviewees are?” I was halfway up the stable aisle before I remembered myself. “Sorry, Dawn—I’ll come back later to meet Dusk! Thank you for the help—and for handling the sun stallions!”
Dawn had been resting her hand on Fax’s neck, but when I looked back at her she folded over in a bow.
Ugh, I’ll have to do something eventually to stop all this bowing. I shivered a little as I left the stable and popped out on a walking path that led back to the mansion.
The faun hurried after me, his legs going twice as fast to keep up with me, since I was over a head taller than him. “But, surely you need to eat something, Queen Leila. You refused to eat last night as well!”
Yep, and I was intending to do that for a long time.
That old story that you shouldn’t eat or drink anything a fae gives you? Totally true. Fae had an easy time bespelling food and beverages. I was pretty sure that food made in the fae realm also had a magic quality about it which could be potentially dangerous, but since it seemed like the Night Court operated almost entirely in the human world, I wouldn’t have to worry about that just yet.
Regardless, it was safe to say I wasn’t eating anything here. It’s why I had packed bags of fruit and snacks.
“I had some food packed from home,” I said vaguely. “So, where are we going? I want to meet my potential employees.”
A half-strangled wail escaped from the faun’s mouth before he caught it and reeled it back in. “This way, Queen Leila.”
The faun led me across the irritatingly perfect lawn and inside the mansion.
It seemed like he led me through a dizzying maze of rooms—I hadn’t explored the place much the previous night since the Paragon’s bad news had just about “funned” me out—before we reached what appeared to be an over-the-top, lavish meeting room.
An egg-shaped table made of carved wood and topped with granite squatted in the center of the room. The wood paneling on the walls seemed to depict the phases of the moon and a wolf-like creature chasing after it, and the floor to ceiling window at the far end of the room was half covered by a stiff and heavy curtain made of dark blue fabric.
The only other ornamentation in the room was an unassuming brownish-red clay teapot, which sat on a little shelf and was positioned under a spotlight.
“Queen Leila, these are the applicants for the position of steward.” The faun bowed—this time to the fae who were seated around the table.
All of them were fae nobles—which didn’t really surprise me considering my steward, second only to my unwanted-but-forced-on-me-husband, would be one of the top officials in the Court.
My early morning Google session had taught me that the position of steward was twofold. First, they were in charge of the personnel of all of my properties, and secondly they were a government official who was capable of representing me in political situations. A lot of the Court official stuff—communications with my people, taxes on my nobles, laws, and gathering reports on current topics/events, etc—passed through the steward before reaching the Court monarch.
Basically, they were my second in command. And I was supposed to choose my steward from a group of fae that were convinced they were better than me and were probably going to do their best to fudge my efforts. (Particularly when they found out I was going to sell as much as possible to make up for all the budget deficits.)
I scanned up and down the table, noting the perfect hair, tapered ears, and bronze skin that was the mark of a full blooded night fae.
I tugged on the lace hem of my shirt—a cute, silk blue shirt that I liked because it really brought out the purplish-blue of my eyes—and approached the first applicant. “Hey there! Let’s cut to the chase: do you like humans?”
The applicant, a handsome fae with a dazzling smile, flashed his dimples at me. “Some may find humans intelligent and—”
“Yep, you don’t. Thanks, but I’m looking for an applicant with different qualifications.” I stepped up to the next candidate. “How about you? Do you like humans?”
This applicant, a beautiful female with blond-brown hair, glanced at the handsome fae, whose face had twisted with anger at the fast dismissal. “Is it important for a fae steward of a fae Court to like humans?” she asked.
I gave her a pitying look. “You need to work on your implications—he was a lot more convincing than you were.” I gestured at the still angry first candidate. “Thanks for stopping by, but I regret to say I don’t feel this position is a good fit for you.” Another step and another applicant. “Surprise question: Do you like humans?”
“Yes.”
“Splendid! A follow up question: are you applying for this job with the intention of harming or hurting me?”
The applicant fish mouthed for a moment, shocked by my blunt question.
“I, I,” she said, unable to answer with a lie.
“Ohhh, you were close, but the correct answer is: No. Thanks for applying, though. Good luck next time. How about you, are you applying for this position with the intention of harming or hurting me?” I asked the next applicant, a male.
“You are the Queen of the Night Court,” he countered. “I can’t physically hurt you.”
I stared at him for a very long moment and wondered if he really thought I was that stupid that I only meant physically. “Have you seriously not watched the way I’ve laid everyone before you flat for their wordsmithing? You had longer than them to prepare something. One star—very disappointing. Sorry, but no. I’m looking to move this Court in a different direction. Next!”
One of the female fae jumped from her chair, her slender frame taut with fury. “You cannot conduct yourself in this way.”
“Oh, can’t I?” I batted my eyes at the irate fae. “I was unaware there was a higher power than me in this Court.”
“It lacks tact and elegance,” one of the male candidates sneered.
“Oh no.” I dramatically clasped my hand to my heart. “Not that! How will I function without tact and elegance?” I chuckled to myself, then settled on the next applicant. “How about it? Do you like humans?”
Silence answered me.
I was about to move on to the next candidate, but there was something that made me look at the applicant.
She was different from the others. Her ears were like mine—not tapered at all—but she still had the blessing of fae beauty with her heart-shaped face, button-nose, and high cheekbones.
Rather than the typical bronze skin of the Night Court, her skin was a warm shade of gold. Her hair was pretty different, too. It was a lovely shade of a dark, ashen brown, but it was extremely short for a fae—just a bit longer than chin length—though it was perfectly curled with no amount of frizz my jealous eyes could see.
She’s part human. But someone might have sent her hoping to score some sympathy.
I hated that I even had to think that, but—as the Paragon told me—I was an unwilling participant in a game of power.
My pause gave the applicant enough time to reply. “Yes,” she said. “I like humans and enjoy spending time in the human world.”
Behind me someone scoffed.
“Are you applying for this job with the intention of harming or hurting me?” I asked.
“Then why are you applying?”
She hesitated, but her gaze went beyond me, to the other applicants.
I turned around, frowning when I saw none of the fae I had dismissed had actually left. “Since you seem to require elegance in order to understand anything, allow me to express it differently: I have found the lot of you lack certain areas to both your personality and your moral compass that make you unpleasant for me to spend any length of time with. Thank you for exiting this interview in a manner befitting of your station.”
“You can’t be serious,” the male fae—the sneerer—said. “I’m the eldest son of Lord Vyalnt!”
I smiled and clapped my hands together. “And I have no idea who Lord Vyalnt is! Which, unfortunately for you, means I don’t care. At all.”
A few of the irate applicants started to leave, and I turned my attention to the remaining three I would have left to talk to after I finished chatting with the part-human-part fae. “I’m going to ask you the same questions. If you don’t like humans, want the job because you’re plotting against me, and can’t tell me why you’re applying, there is no sense in staying.”
Two of the applicants—a male and female fae who looked more frightened than angry—exchanged glances, then stood up and fled.
The third—a smug looking male fae I recognized as the friend/cohort of the blond fae who had started the heckling when the Paragon had introduced me—smirked and settled into his chair.
“Yeah, no,” I said. “I remember you quite well. It’s not happening. Buh-bye.”
The final applicant narrowed his eyes at me. “Soon you will learn this was a mistake—to treat us so poorly.”
“Because based on the way you all responded, I’m sure I missed out on becoming life-long besties with all of you. Goodbye—and better luck next time!”
He finally left, and when I glanced at the faun who had escorted me here, he bobbed and bowed. “I’ll just wait outside.”
He disappeared through the door, leaving me alone with the remaining applicant.
I studied her for a moment, trying to get a feel for her. “You’re part human?”
“Half, Queen Leila.” She inclined her head in a nod of respect to me. “My name is Skye—I’m the granddaughter of Lord Thales.”
When I kept staring at her, she added, “He is a member of fae nobility.”
“I can’t say I find that shocking. Tell me, Skye, why do you want to be my steward?” I plopped down in one of the chairs and rolled closer when I discovered it was on wheels.
Skye’s lips twitched.
“You don’t want to tell me?” I spun my chair so it faced the door, and was opening my mouth to send her on her way, but she spoke before I could.
“Your questions are designed to strip the applicants bare.”
I swiveled back in her direction. “And you find that inappropriate?”
She wasn’t wrong.
I had spent the earliest hours of the morning trying to figure out what questions I could ask so I didn’t end up with a backstabber as a steward.
“No…I can understand why. But no fae will willingly reveal themselves like that. It’s against all our instincts and everything we’ve been taught. To be open is to be weak. It gives your enemies an advantage and makes you an easy target.”
I drummed my fingers on the granite table-top. “Then how would you go about getting a job candidate’s reassurance that they won’t backstab me at the bidding of their family?”
“I would ask each candidate who they would be most loyal to. The trick is to allow the candidate the chance to remain veiled, but have the motivation you want your employees to have.”
Oh, she’s good. I whistled, impressed by her thought process. But a tad optimistic. Just because I’m queen doesn’t mean anyone is going to be loyal to me—even the ones I hire. Which means I just need to come up with a motivation that I can work with.
“I can swear that I will be loyal to you, Queen Leila,” Skye said.
I smiled to show I appreciated the gesture. “Thank you for saying that, but you are half human. I know you can lie to me.”
Skye looked slightly puzzled. “Do humans commonly lie?”
Her question felt genuine. The light in her eye was questioning, and she hadn’t smothered her reaction like a fae usually would. But seriously, how could she not know?
Her face cleared, her confusion smoothed away by a solemn expression. “Regardless, you are correct. As a half fae, my vows don’t mean as much. But as a pledge of my loyalty I will reveal that I am here at the request of my grandfather.”
“He’s plotting against me?”
“Not at all. But his line is one of the smallest noble houses. If I became your steward, it would bring us honor and prestige,” Skye said.
“And he asked you because he was hoping I’d be softer toward a fellow half human?” I guessed. She didn’t react, so I was probably right on. “Were you primarily raised by fae?”
“Yes,” Skye said. “My father was human, but he died when I was young. My mother and I moved in with my grandfather, then.” She paused, then added. “I received a fae education, as well as a general human education at my mother’s insistence. I have the training necessary to fulfill my duties.”
She’s lived among nobles, and she obviously understands how fae society works. I don’t trust her—not this soon, anyway. But as long as I stay on my toes, it should be okay. She doesn’t feel off to me.
For a moment I paused, and the impossibility of what I was trying to do threatened to collapse on me.
I’d been here for one day and I already felt tired. But, hey, hopefully that was the sleepless night talking!
Hmm, which probably means my director of security is the most important position I hire if I ever feel like sleeping again.
“Okay.” I slapped my hands on the table and stood up. “Welcome to the team, Skye.”
She stared up at me. “You’re hiring me?”
“Yep.”
“To be your steward?”
“That’s the position you were applying for, right?”
“Yes…”
“Great. Then your first task as steward is to make an online job application ad for my new director of security.” I strolled outside the meeting room and was pleased to find the faun waiting outside. “You’re still here, perfect. I’ve hired my steward, who is next?”
“Ah, this way, Queen Leila.” The faun swayed in a dance-like bow and hurried down the hallway.
Skye left the meeting room and followed us, typing away on her smartphone with a speed I knew I couldn’t match. “You wish to place an online ad for the position of director of security?”
“Yep. I’ll need to hire a supernatural, obviously, but the Curia Cloisters does have a specialty jobs for hire section on their website. You can start by posting it there.” I studied the mansion decorations with fascination as we walked.
Apparently I was slow on the pickup. I was just starting to realize everything in the place was decorated with dark shades of blue and purple, with streaks of black and accents of silver.
“You mean to open the position up to the other fae Courts?” Skye asked.
“No,” I said. “I mean to hire anyone but a fae.”
Skye didn’t say anything as she tapped away on her smartphone, stopping without looking up when the faun hesitated in front of a large door.
“In here, Queen Leila, are the applicants for the esteemed position of companion,” the faun said.
I tilted my head. “What?”
“Companion,” the faun repeated.
“What does a companion do?”
The faun grabbed at his bowtie and started to look a little sweaty from his nerves. “They are your companion?”
“A companion will attend socials with you, aid you with your wardrobe, see to your needs, and provide any entertainment you may need,” Skye helpfully supplied.
“Kind of like a
personal assistant?” I asked.
“Of a sort,” Skye said. “Your companion will devote herself to your needs.”
“Yeah, sounds like a personal assistant. It’s fine—I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” I asked the faun.
“Eventide, Queen Leila.” The faun nervously bowed again.
“Nice to meet you, Eventide. Okay, unleash the candidates!”
Eventide and Skye stared at me.
I sighed, dying just a little inside due to the general lack of humor among the fae. “I’d like to meet the applicants for the position of companion.”
“Yes, right away!” The faun scrambled to open the door. “Queen Leila,” the faun announced to the room.
They’d gathered the companion applicants in a fancy sitting room—the type I’d only seen before in Drake Hall. The wood floors and fancy rugs—which were dark blue decorated with silver star patterns—probably were each worth as much as a car, but I was pretty sure it was the hand painted wallpaper—a deep, subdued blue with swirls of purple and black and dustings of silver and gold creating star-studded galaxies—that was the most pricy thing about the room.
Like the previous room, this one also had teaware on display. Four shelves fixed to the wall housed a silver teapot, sugar container, and a tiny pitcher I assumed was for cream, as well as three different sets of porcelain tea cups that all depicted blue or purple flowers surrounded by gold swirls. Each piece was lit by glowing orbs of magic.
I’m starting to sense a pattern with all of these tea accoutrements. That does not bode well for me as a coffee drinker.
Crowded inside, sitting on the furniture—which looked plush, but based on the stiff way everyone was sitting it must have felt as comfy as stone—was a wildly diverse group of candidates.
Two dryads, a naiad, a sylph, three sirens, what I thought was a female dwarf, a brownie, and a banshee all stood up and bowed to me.
I leaned closer to Skye. “Do the less powerful fae usually fill the position of companion?” I whispered.
